Arthur Knapp-shappey - interrogation specialist
by Brown hair and eyes
Summary: "Mum, there's a Pirate! In the cabin! He wants me to use my learning-to-understand-people skills to talk to people." How Arthur got recuited by a certain covert organisation.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Knapp-shappey - interrogation specialist  
AN: I wrote this, I hope everyone's in charecter and I hope you enjoy!

"Mum, there's a Pirate! In the cabin! With an eye-patch and a great coat and an american accent and everything. In our cabin!"  
"What does he want?" Caroyln sighed.  
"He wants me to use my learning-to-understand-people skills to talk to people. As a proper job, not just for fun!"  
"What!"  
"I know; it's brilliant!"

"So, to get this clear, you want to employ _my_ son, a man for whom half-wit is a kind exaggeration and who often _falls over_ when he _lies_ to work in an interrogation department in some hair-brained _covert _organisation who's name makes MJN sound like the pinnacle of professionalism and ability."  
"Yes." the man stared back at Carolyn seemingly unaffected by the sarcasm and disbelief in her voice.  
"Do I wish to know why? No, thinking about it, probably not. Fine. You want him and he seems enthusiastic about it, even more so than usual. But I will negotiate his pay and working hours. _I_ will not let my son accept a year's supply of toblerones."

"Hi chaps! This is Mr-"  
"Classified."  
"Really because I thought your name was-"  
"Arthur, Classified."  
"What do you mean classified- Oh. Oh! _Classified!_ Right." He attempted to wink, an action that caused the observers to flinch. "Well, this is Skip and Douglas. This is Mr... Classified. He's kind of a bit my boss. I mean, I suppose Mum is my boss too but she hasn't got an eye-patch or a parrot... We should all get eye-patches!"  
"What do you mean? Why is he your boss?" Martin questioned confusedly.  
"Well, remember that I went on that understanding-people course in-"  
"In Ipswich, yes I do."  
"Well it turns out that in some ways I'm actually quite good at talking to people or sometimes _at_ them, they're _really_ surprised when I do that. So I talk to them and they talk to me and Mr Classified uses that to help other people. Apparently I'm quite good at being a person that people don't mind talking with! And sometimes if the doctors think some people need it I talk to other workers too. It's actually quite fun."


	2. Chapter 2

A dicussion between pilots  
AN: This chapter is set roughly halfway through chapter 1. Hope you enjoy.

"So, what do you think?"

"So, what do I think, what?"

"You know."

"My illustrious captain, the things I know are manifold but alas without the aid of telepathy- a skill I am yet to master-"

"About Arthur's new job."

"Go on."

"Well, I mean, it's a bit suspicious isn't it? MJN air being in trouble-"

"Such an astonishing change from status quo!"

"-in _more_ trouble than normal, Carolyn seriously considering pulling the plug. Then suddenly Arthur's getting a new job, Arthur, a technicality is discovered in the small print and bibbity bobbity boo MJN air is in the black for once!"

"And you're concerned because _we're_ being kept in the dark?" Douglas quirked an eyebrow.

Martin sighed. "I don't know. It's just seems rather odd you know?"

"So you think Arthur's joined, what, the Mafia!"

"Goodness no! But he doesn't really talk about it."

"He's been talking about it ever since."

"Yes, but it's all about the coffee machine they have there and his colleagues' pets names, not what they do or who they are or where they work..."

Douglas paused and thought about his last couple of trips.

"Martin, I believe you're _right._" A silence fell between the pilots as they contemplated this revelation.

"So what do you think he's doing then that _Arthur_ wants to keep secret?"

"Well anything technical is out, working for his father perhaps – no Carolyn wouldn't let it come for that, not even for MJN."

"Maybe he's a superhero and has some sort of... secret identity. He has the temperament for it."

"I didn't know superheroing paid so well. If so I might have reconsidered my career choice- fame, money-"

"Lycra outfits?"

"Perhaps not. Acting maybe? No."

"A spy?"

"You're really scrapping the barrel here aren't you?"

"Well, you don't know either!"

"Coffee chaps! Oh, is something wrong? Do you need me to Listen about it? I'm quite good at it you know."

"No thank you Arthur, it's okay. What do you do? In your new job, I mean."

"Oh this and that. Are we nearly there yet?"

"No; we've still got three hours of Russia still to go."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Clint Barton and Clear communication

Clint had a conundrum. Well, a conundrum, paranoia, a hefty dose of survivor's guilt, a brunch of self worth issues and the fact that he, unwillingly or not, had just lead a mostly successful invasion of a major base belonging to the organisation that gave him purpose. And may have contributed to his handler's death. You know, small things.

But his current issue was something his unconscious mind had notices and exploited during the aforesaid invasion attempt and was only now bringing to his attention. It sounded insane, even inside his own head. If it wasn't for the fact he had picked up on it when his higher brain functions (like choice) had been stripped away he would have dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.

If he was wrong, if they didn't believe him he would be sectioned or least brought under heavy investigation from the pysch wing. Even if he was right but the wrong people heard, that might still happen.

"Hello, hi, excuse me, are you -are you okay?" Clint stared at the young man- what was his name – who had interrupted his reverie.

"It's just that your eyebrows are doing a frowning thing, like Mum and Martin and Douglas do sometimes and I thought I might be able to help?" Clint stared pointedly at the rubble which still had yet to be cleared.

"Oh, right you were here when, so that's why, of course you're not happy with... everything." The boy continued seemingly oblivious to Clint's now incredulous stare and somewhat hostile body language. Had he no preservation instinct? Did he even realise he was talking to the person who had murdered a large number of his colleagues?

"Its just that I wasn't there when it all happened, I was with Mum on Gertie and I kind of feel weird about it 'cause I'm glad I wasn't here because there were explosions and things but now I want to help make things better. And I thought you might have a problem what with all the staring at nothing and I wondered if I could help. I mean if its to do with crazy golf or otters on aeroplane or polar bears on, well anything really – I'm your man." He beamed at Clint with what honestly seemed like hope on his face.

"No, it's nothing like that."Clint finally replied, then on seeing the disappointment in his eyes "sorry".

"Oh. Well, what is it then, if you don't mind me asking? I'm quite good at listening too."  
Blow it, Cling thought, it's not as if they aren't waiting for me to go crazy anyway.

"Something I noticed is bothering me but I don't know who to report it without sounding" insane, mad "odd."

"Oh that's easy" the boy responded with relief "I know how to do that- I went on a course..."

Clint took a deep breath before stepping into the room, that he managed to get a meeting with Fury on such short notice was a little surprising but he wasn't turning back now.

"What is this about, Agent?" Fury's voice was flat and tense,he wasn't taking Coulson's death well either some distant part of Clint noticed. Stick to the plan Barton. He inhaled slowly and began.

"Hey, Chief, I might be wrong-" he held up his hand to halt Fury's interruption.

"But I think Shield may be compromised by an unknown enemy organisation. This" he took another shaky breath, Arthur – and who had recruited that man to Shield!- had been quite vehement about this next bit.

"this makes me feel... concerned" That wasn't the start of it. "How about we investigate this issue?" Clint paused and took another careful breath. "How does that sound to you?"

"It sounds like you have a lot of work to do Agent Barton."


End file.
